


Kiss Her and Run

by mother_finch



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen, mother-finch fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 04:55:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3637518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mother_finch/pseuds/mother_finch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PROMPT: shoot prompt: Shaw finally gets back to Team Machine, but Root's different. She's standoffish, doesn't volunteer to go with her on her missions like she use to, barely even talks to Shaw since she got back. Shaw's really confused and one day finally gets annoyed enough and freaks out "What's your problem" and Root plays it off, but Shaw won't drop it and finally Root just yells at her about how Shaw kissed her. Shaw kissed her then vanished. No leads. Nothing. She can't handle that again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss Her and Run

_It’s been a while, almost a month, but I’m finally back. It’s weird, how normal everything seems, but at the same time, how extremely alien it all is. It’s as if I’m a different person in the same skin, like this was a dream I had as a child, and now it is somehow tangible._ They hit a bump in the road, and Shaw is yanked from her thoughts, eyes focusing on the gravel path ahead of them, stretching out far past the edges of sight, lined on either side with lush evergreens and dark, thick grass. She looks to the driver’s seat, eyes coming across John Reese. She takes in his chiseled features, icy eyes, and sharp jaw line. _Is he different?_  She asks herself.  _Maybe at first._  He’d been cautious the first week or so, as if she were glass and he was a stone.  _He watched me from just out of reach, protected me a little too much, and didn’t speak just quite enough._  However, seeing her fine and ready to go, he’d soon fallen back into his old self with her.

 _Was it Finch then?_ She ponders the thought, eyes drifting away from John and out to the window.  _When I first returned, he seemed off. As if he knew something I didn’t- a bunch of somethings- but kept them swallowed up within himself_. He saw her as adults see their childhood monsters. No longer scared, but forever wary.  _But no, not forever,_  she thinks.  _He became his old self again too, letting me out on my own without trailing or having someone else trail me. What is it then?_  She asks herself, brows knitting in deep thought.  _Lionel didn’t seem much different, even from the start, just happy to see me those first few days._ Bear was the same, the station was the same, the people were the same-  _but that’s it_ , she  concludes at last.  _One of them isn’t the same._

* * *

 

She hadn’t thought of it at first, mostly because she hadn’t seen her enough in the last month to tell. But that’s what makes it different.  _Root is that something that’s changed._  Ever since Shaw came back, Root shied away, keeping to the shadows. Shaw would catch her looking from time to time, usual clear eyes overcast in thought. She’d always look away the second she realized Shaw was staring back. Root refused to go on any mission with her- as simple as ‘walk Shaw home.’

 _'I can't,_ ' or _‘I’m busy,’_ or  _'How about John, instead?_ ' It was only ever cold shoulders.  _How many words has she spoken to me since I returned?_  She can count them on her fingers.

’ _Glad you are okay.’ ‘Welcome back_.’  _Six words._  Six words and a life time of silence. Shaw finds herself replaying them over and over in her head, missing the sound.

"Shaw, you alright?" John asks, stealing a glance at her before bringing his eyes back to the road. She nods at first, then winds up shaking her head. "What is it?"

"Has Root seemed a little  _strange_  to you?”

"She’s always seemed a little strange to me," John replies with a chuckle.

"You know what I mean," she says seriously, and he becomes sober.

"She’ll come around," he assures her, but that only makes the situation worse.

"It’s been a month; how much longer does she need?" Shaw huffs, crossing her arms with dismay. John tilts his head back and forth, weighing his options.

"She was worse before," John confesses to her, and she drops her arms, eyes on him. "When you were gone- she was different. Trust me," he says, turning off the road into an even smaller pathway. "Comparing her to how she was, she’s doing a lot better with you around. Just give it time."

"Patience has never been my strong suit, John," she replies, but her mind is already wandering.  _Better with me around? I’m not around, she won’t even come within ten feet of me,_  Shaw spits to herself heatedly.  _And what’s up with her being so different before? What did she do? Who was she then?_  Shaw can only think of one person Root would ever be: Root.  _No matter how angered or crazed or calm- no matter how she acts- she’ll always be Root._

________\ If Your Number’s Up /_________

Pulling up to a large estate tucked into a forest of trees, Shaw sees a police car already parked in the driveway. Once the ignition dies, Shaw steps out of the vehicle, John a step behind, as she comes up the small pathway. The gravel crunches beneath her boots, and she tries to focus on the sound- anything except Root. Coming to the front door, she jiggles the handle. Locked.

Shaw looks to John, and he makes his way up the wooden porch steps, painted a dark green, and comes to the old front door. With a large hand, he gives a sturdy knock. She looks at him strangely, but says nothing.

"Who is it?" Fusco’s voice carries out from behind the door, and Shaw feels her muscles relax.

"Detective John Riley. Open up."

"I’m gonna need to see some ID first," Fusco’s voice replies, but a second later the door unlocks, and his laughing face greets them from behind the door. John, giving him a quick smile, walks in. Shaw’s face stays neutral, and Fusco closes the door behind her.

"Who’s place is this anyway?" Shaw asks, looking at the large estate. The front foyer is made of polished wood, branching off in two different directions. The left leads to what seems like a grand kitchen with an open bar, the right melts into a large living room area. Straight ahead is a winding staircase that leads to a balcony, wrapping around the three back walls, a chandelier hanging in the center of the space. Following the banister up and around with her eyes, Shaw sees that the entire top, front wall is a puzzle of patterned windows. Eyes trailing down the cream wall, she walks forward, eyes searching. There are few decorations, the only indication of life being a set of keys in a dish and a portrait beside them. Shaw walks over to the small table against the back of the stairs, picking the photo up to examine it. A man and woman in their early twenties, arms wrapped around each other and smiles plastered to their faces. Placing it back down, she looks to Lionel.

"The Cullens. Not the vampire kind, the trust-fund-rich-kid kind."

"Do the Cullens have a  _bathroom_?” Shaw asks, looking around for any doors. Fusco jerks his head down the small corridor that leads to the kitchen.

"Go that way then take a left. There’ll be a door on the side." Nodding, Shaw heads that way, taking in the house’s grandeur as she walks. The smooth walls that melt into each other, the sleek, wooden floors. She comes to the kitchen- a long, wrap-around island with every appliance under the sun on the far counter- and takes a left. And, sure enough, there is a white painted, wooden door. It’s closed, and Shaw can hear the water running.  _That’s odd.._. She thinks to herself, recalling no cars other than Lionel’s and John’s out front. She hesitates a moment, then knocks.

"Yes?" A kind voice calls back, and Shaw freezes.  _Seven words_. She’s still, mouth taped shut, eyes slightly wider than normal. After a moment, the water shuts off. “Hello?”  _Eight_.

The door knob starts to turn, and Shaw feels thrill and fear mingle as they travel down her spine. The door pulls inward, and the second Root looks up, she stops. Her fingernails dig into the wood of the door, and her every muscle goes taught.

"Root, hey," Shaw says, at a loss for words. Better yet, at a loss of which to say first. "Are you okay, you’ve seemed a little-" Shaw stops as Root darts away. She slips out from behind the door, pushing herself to the wall as if Shaw is poison, then scurries back down the hall. With a sigh, Shaw brings two fingers to her temple, trying to rub away the oncoming migraine.

Stepping into the bathroom, Shaw locks the door behind her, pressing her back against the cool surface, trying to sort out her thoughts. But, seeing they are cluttered beyond repair, Shaw steps forward. Turning the spigot on cold, she runs her hands under the water, then splashes her face. She can feel something welling inside of her, but what it is, she is still uncertain. Wiping her face on the bathroom towel, she walks back out towards the foyer.

The first thing she sees is Root. She stands there, wavy hair cascading down over her black, leather jacket. Her eyes are pained and insistent, and she whispers heated words to Fusco. Looking up, her eyes connect with Shaw’s, and she draws back from the conversation immediately. She turns, pulling back a lace curtain to look out the window beside the front door.

"Are you sure they’re coming, Harry?" Root asks, peering from left to right. "They should be here by now."

In her earpiece, Shaw can hear the loud clicks of a keyboard.

"Oh my."

"What is it, Harold?" John asks, eyes flickering over Shaw’s face a moment before standing behind Root, peering over her to look out the window as well. She feels an overwhelming flare of spite rise like bile in her throat, and her ears begin to redden. Just how close he is, how she doesn’t even move.  _But if I so much as stand four feet away she has to run,_ Shaw thinks bitterly. She feels a sudden swell of contempt in her stomach.

 _Is this what jealousy feels like?_  She asks herself, eyes burning holes into the back of John’s head.  _Because if it is, it sucks._

"There was a large traffic accident on I95, all transportation is at a standstill. I tracked the location of their car… and they are stuck, along with hundreds of others. There has to be a way to get to them."

"We have a police car," John tells him, looking over to Lionel. He walks away from the window, and Shaw feels a wave of relief crash over her. "Think we can make it through in that?"

"It’s possible." Harold replies, fingers still flying over the keys.

"Great, John and I can go look into it, and Shaw and Fusco can stay here in case they find a way out before we get there." Root pulls away from the window, hand reaching for the brass handle. John puts his hand against the wooden door, keeping it shut.

"Don’t you think the  _cops_  should drive in the  _cop_  car?” John asks with extended patients.

"I might have my FBI badge around here somewhere," Root responds. "I can look for it on the car ride there. Let’s go." She pulls at the door, but John braces his forearm against it, not allowing it to budge far. He brings his mouth to Root’s ear, whispering something to her. Shaw strains to hear the words in vain, and John’s eyes come to her as he talks. She shoots him a deadly glare, hating the heat in her cheeks, and he finally pulls away. Root’s jaw is set angrily, but she nods, stepping away from the door.

"C’mon," John beckons to Fusco, jerking his head towards the door. Fusco hurries forward, and they leave through the front door, Root not moving from her stance less than a foot from the entryway. Both women stand in silence, listening to the footsteps recede. Then, an engine revs to life, a siren starts to wail, and the sound of tires spitting gravel travels out of hearing range. One, two, three minutes pass, and still, neither moves.

 _What should I do?_ Shaw thinks, eyes not moving from Root, her back facing Shaw, every muscle in her body at the point of snapping. Balling up her fists, she gathers her courage and takes a step forward. And that’s when it all begins.

__________\ We’ll Find You /____________

That one step is a detonator, setting off a bone-shattering explosion. Root whips around to face Shaw, eyes seething. Shaw concentrates on Root’s face, seeing her lip curling into a pained sneer. She walks forward, steps quick and quiet over the shining floor. Root starts to walk away, but Shaw launches her arm forward, hand wrapping around Root’s wrist. Root yanks it viciously, but Shaw only tightens her grip. Shaw can see the absolute agony bleeding from Root’s brown eyes.  _What did I ever do to cause her such pain?_

"Root, can we talk a-"

"No." She tugs at her hand, but to no avail.

"You’ve barely said a  _word_  to me since-“

"I said no." Root gives her arm another, rough yank, and she slips from Shaw’s grip, stalking into the living room area; dark wardrobe contrasting greatly with the beige furniture and glass coffee table. Steaming with flustered rage, Shaw spits,

"What’s your  _problem_?!” The house becomes dead silent, every piece of furniture seeming to hold its breath.

Root turns her head towards Shaw slightly, eyes not reaching hers, with her back to Shaw. She clears her throat. “I don’t  _have_  a problem,” she says coolly, to which Shaw snorts.

"That’s a load of shit, and you know it."

"I’ve just been under the weather," Root persists, turning her head away from Shaw as she walks to the far wall- as far away from Shaw as possible.

"For an  _entire_  month?” Shaw throws back skeptically.

"Those pesky viral infections," Root replies with a small laugh in her voice. "They’re sure something."

Shaw walks towards her, but stops short on the opposite side of the coffee table. Her temper is less than short, confusion growing more with each passing second. “So you’re just going to  _lie_  your way out of this?” Shaw asks incredulously.

"I just don’t want to get you sick," Root replies shortly, and Shaw finally looses it.

"Get  _me_  sick?!” She screams. “You’re treating me like  _I’m_  the virus! What the hell did I ever  _do_  to you, huh? What button did I push that’s gotten you to  _hate_  me so much?!” The words come out before she can sensor them, and she instantly wishes to swallow them all back down, wanting more than anything to conceal such dark emotions. Root whips around hostilely, eyes glistening.

"Is  _that_  what you think?” She screams back. “You think I  _hate_  you?”

Shaw looks away, pursing her lips and crossing her arms, not trusting herself to say another word.

Root sighs. “I don’t hate you. I- I could never.”

"Then why are you avoiding me," Shaw demands, cold eyes falling back on Root’s.

"I’m no-"

"Don’t lie to me." Root’s lip twitches, muscles coiling even tighter.

"Do you  _really_  want to know the truth?” She asks, voice rising with every word.

"If I didn’t would I be  _asking_?” Shaw retorts, and Root throws her hands against her legs angrily. Hurt in her eyes, she leans in closer to Shaw, raging like a tempest.

"You  _kissed_  me!” She shrieks. “You  _kissed_  me and then you  _left_!”

"Do you think I  _wanted_  to leave?” Shaw spits back, and Root pulls her face away, turning back to look at the wall. Shaw walks around the table, coming between Root and the sofa, giving Root no other choice than to look at her. “Do you think that if I had  _any_  other options, I would have chosen to  _leave_  you?” Root’s eyes flicker at the words. “To leave  _all_  of you?”

"I thought I was never going to  _see_  you again,” Root shouts at her, voice threatening to crack. “You had other options. You weren’t even supposed to  _be_  close to the radar.  _I_  called you out!  _I_  asked you to come! And  _I_  nearly got you  _killed_!”

"Me showing up had  _nothing_  to do with you,” Shaw sneers. “Even if you’d told me to sit at the station, I would have shown up. There is  _nothing_  you could have done.”

"I could have  _stopped_  you!” Root’s voice rattles the paintings on the walls; she can feel herself shaking.

"And what? Let us all  _die_?” Root is silent a moment as Shaw gives out a cruel laugh. “Great idea. Let everyone die, and for what? For you being able to say you stopped me from keeping the people _I care about most_ alive? Is that what you wanted?!”

"I didn’t want you to  _leave_!” She bites her lip, trying to swallow the hard lump in her throat. When she speaks again, her voice is eerily silent. “I  _don’t_  want you to leave.”

Shaw’s eyes soften, seeing the anguish spread across Root’s face as she looks down at her hands. “There wasn’t a lead or a trail- there was no way to find you. You- you became the most important part of me, and then  _that_  happened.”

"That?" Shaw asks, truly wondering the answer.

"You were gone. Before I knew what was happening, I was locked in and you were locked out. And it tore me apart. I- I can’t go through that again. I  _can’t_.” Dawning comes to Shaw’s eyes, and she too looks down.

"So, you’ve been pushing me away," she says, almost to herself. "In case it ever happens again."

"It’s more than just that," Root whispers.

"What is it, then?" Root is quiet a moment, not looking anywhere but down. "Hey," Shaw says, stooping down to come into her line of sight. She feels a pang in her heart as Root swiftly looks away, bringing a hand to her cheek.  _But not fast enough,_ Shaw thinks solemnly.  _Not fast enough for me to miss it. She’s crying._

"You never show anything. Every card in your deck, you keep to yourself. But, here we are in an imminent death scenario, and you lay them all out on the table.  _All_  of them- for  _me_  to see.”

"…So..?"

” _So_?” Root spits back venomously, voice rising once more. “So, if I stay away from you, you will  _never_  be able to show them to me, and you will  _never_  be able to have that happen to you again.”

"That is the  _worst_  excuse I have ever-“

"I don’t want you giving me hope as you give up on it yourself! " Root screams, eyes locking onto Shaw’s. "And if that’s how it is- if that’s how this  _hope_  thing works- then I don’t want it!  _Any_  of it!  You kissed me because you accepted the fact that you were going to  _die_  back there!”

"That has  _nothing_  to do with why I kissed you!” Shaw belts out in exasperation. “I kissed you then because,  _yeah_ , I thought it was the only shot! But that  _doesn’t_  mean I  _only_  did it because of the circumstances! I could kiss you now; I could kiss you tomorrow- or a  _year_  from now- and it wouldn’t be because I’m leaving. It’s because I-” She stops, too worked up to continue, and scared of the words that almost slipped.  _I can’t believe all the words I’ve said,_  she thinks to herself in amazement.  _All these things I would never even say to myself, out, hanging in the air for anyone to hear._

"I… I don’t believe that," Root says slowly, closing her eyes. Not wanting to see anything anymore. Her voice becomes awfully silent. Shaw watches her eyelids, then her eyes trail to the lashes, sliding down the bridge of her nose. "You had never shown anything before… because you were  _safe_  before… and I don’t think…” she trails off, collecting herself. Shaw’s eyes continue to travel, taking in the colors of her cheeks, the few strands of hair that fall in front of her ear. They travel down her jaw line, stopping at her lips. “I don’t think you are the type of person to act on emotion, you’d rather cover them up until they  _have_  to come out. But the thing is, they only  _have_  to come out when you are in over your h-“

She never gets to finish the sentence. Because Shaw stopped listening the moment before. She comes forward silently, taking Root’s cast-down face and closed eyes to her advantage, as she angles her head slightly upward. Softly, she presses her lips to Root’s, and Root automatically stops talking, eyes flaring open in surprise before closing again. Root doesn’t move, not wanting to. After some unknown amount of time, Shaw pulls back just as silently as she came, and Root opens her eyes. They are a mixture of far too many things; confused, over joyed, kind, overwhelmed.

"That was part impulse, part opportunity, and part wanting you to just shut up." Root gives a barely audible chuckle, trying not to blush as she looks somewhere past Shaw. "But," Shaw continues, and Root brings her eyes back to her. "It was zero parts accepting imminent death." Root gives her the smallest of smiles, and Shaw shoots her a quick, dazzling one.

There is a crackle in their ears, and a moment later, Harold’s voice reaches them. “Mr. Reese and Detective Fusco managed to intervene the threat on the highway,” he informs them, oblivious to the scene he just barely missed. “And the traffic jam has been cleared. The Cullens are on their way back, so I suggest the both of you leave as soon as possible.”

Shaw waits, waits for Root’s signature doting adoration coupled with a pet name. Yet, she says nothing. “We’re leaving now, Harold,” Shaw informs him, and the line drops. Looking up at Root, Shaw presses her lips together, wondering it anything has been left unsaid. “You ready?” Shaw asks her, and she nods. “Be warned,” Shaw says as she walks back around the coffee table, waiting for Root to come to her side before continuing, “you are going to have to sit with me. I know this is against your ten-foot regimen, but there’s only one car.”

Root sends her an affectionate smirk. “I think I can manage.”

"John’s radio is broken," she tells her, opening the door. "And it’s a long ride. That means you’re going to have to do more than ignore me." There is a playing tone in her voice as they walk to the car.

"It’ll be one of my more  _difficult_  tasks,” Root replies, going along with the foreplay as she walks to the passenger side door. “But I  _guess_  I’ll give it a try.”


End file.
